


Cooling Down

by prolix (shal)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Beach Holidays, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Greece, Hand Jobs, Ice Play, Kissing, M/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, POV Harry Potter, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Taste, TasteofSmut 2020, Temperature Play, Touch, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shal/pseuds/prolix
Summary: Harry needs to relax. Draco needs to cool off. Together, with a bit of ice, they manage to do just that.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 27
Kudos: 198
Collections: Taste of Smut Fest





	Cooling Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladderofyears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/gifts).



> This fic was written for Prompt #35, which asked for "ice cube kink". I've never written this kink before, and it was really fun getting to explore it with Harry and Draco!
> 
> Much love to [shealwaysreads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onereader/pseuds/shealwaysreads) for the fabulous beta work and the Taste of Smut fest mods for all their hard work in creating this fest!

After a particularly tough case, Draco had finally managed to pull Harry away from the Auror department. Now, a few days after he'd arrested the latest Dark Lord-wannabe, Harry found himself dragged out on holiday—with firm instructions from Draco to relax.

The only problem was that Harry could not relax.

He could hardly bear to laze around like this, taunted by the utter stillness of it all. Draco had taken him to a deserted island off the coast of Greece, a far cry from the crowded hustle of London. Harry had to strain to hear the waves of the Aegean Sea lapping against the shore, the soft rustle of leaves brushing against one another in the breeze. It felt so foreign to Harry, who had always been a bit unsettled by the absence of noise, of movement, of life. It reminded him too much of the quiet normalcy of Privet Drive, many of his days spent alone with only his thoughts to keep him company in the shadows of his cupboard.

Adding to the unnatural stillness which seemed to surround him, the sun hung high in the sky, bearing down on them with an unyielding potency. It left Harry sticky and uncomfortable—suffocating. Harry, having never been out of the country prior, felt tense and awkward. Unsure how to act. Unsure how to cool down. 

He didn't like it. But, he couldn't say anything, not to Draco, who was clearly enjoying the break from his hectic potions business. Harry saw the way he was luxuriating in the long, endless days free from responsibility. 

Even now, Draco lay next to him, draped over a sun lounger on the balcony of their hotel room in nothing but a pair of linen shorts. He was all lean lines and long limbs. Gorgeous flushed skin, and hair nearly white beneath the sun’s blinding rays. Freckles, barely visible, peppered his cheeks. He was nothing short of Harry’s personal Adonis.

Draco moved suddenly, a long arm reaching out to grab a hold of his gin and tonic. Harry found himself transfixed, eyes zeroing in on the man’s nimble fingers wrapped around his glass, the tantalizing bob of his adam’s apple as he took a sip, the sound of ice clinking against glass, gliding against Draco’s plump, pink lips…

“Are you planning to stare all day?”

Harry's head shot up, heat rising to his cheeks as he realised he’d been caught. He met Draco’s gaze, eyes dipping briefly to the glossy, gin-soaked smirk tugging at the other man’s lips. 

“Would you rather I didn't?”

Draco’s eyes darkened a bit at that, his legs widening unconsciously. Harry was treated to an unobstructed view of the bulge in Draco’s shorts—not completely hard, but definitely visible through its wafer-thin fabric. “Look all you want.”

“But, can I touch...?” Harry didn't wait for a reply. Instead, he stood, crossing the small space between them to straddle the other man. His hands pressed against Draco’s bare chest, fingers sliding against his muscles which glistened with sweat. He wanted to devour him.

Draco looked up at him, his hands slipping around Harry’s hips, anchoring him in place over his lap, “Is there any particular reason for all this?”

“Do I need one?”

“Indulge me.”

“I’m horny,” said Harry with a low chuckle. It wasn't the whole story, but it was true enough.

“That sounds like a personal problem to me.” The smile on Draco’s face belied his words.

“I think you can help me solve it.” Harry leaned forwards, allowing his lips to ghost over the shell of Draco’s ear, letting his hips to press pointedly against Draco’s own, “Let me suck you off.”

Draco inhaled sharply at that, his fingers tightening on Harry’s hips, “I’d love you to, Harry, but it's too bloody _hot_.”

He had a point. Harry could hardly stand to be so close to Draco now; his body heat was almost unbearable in the sun. He was just about to pull the man back indoors when he caught sight of Draco’s gin and tonic, glass still dangling from his hand, and knew exactly what he could do to cool them off.

“Trust me,” said Harry, taking Draco's hand in his own, “Alright?” 

Draco squeezed his hand in return, “I’m fine, Harry. Get on with it, you tosser!”

Harry laughed at Draco’s impatience and deliberately ignored him. He reached for the drink, relishing in the cool drops of condensation against his fingers as they wound their way around the glass. He took a sip, unable to help himself. Bitter gin and tangy lime exploded over his lips, mellowed only the cool slide of half-melted ice against his tongue. 

The sun bore down on them, drenching them in a nearly-suffocating heat. He felt Draco squirming under him, itching for him to move, to touch, to taste, as Harry had promised. Harry, unable to wait much longer, unable to quell the chaos that had been buzzing under his skin for hours, took a cube of ice from Draco’s drink and pressed it flush against the other man’s nipple.

“Fuck,” gasped Draco, body recoiling from the sensation for a split-second before he began to arch up into it. Harry moved the slippery cube around Draco’s nipple in small circles, each round leaving a trail of cool liquid in its wake. Harry watched, enamoured by the way Draco’s rosy nipples hardened at the sensation. 

Harry slid the cube over to Draco’s other nipple, bending forward to capture the one he’d abandoned with his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive nub, sucking on the cool flesh in a way that had Draco winding his hands into Harry's hair and holding him in place. 

By the time the ice cube melted, Harry closed his lips around Draco's other nipple. One of his hands slid down to cup Draco's now-hard cock through his shorts, pulling a loud groan from the other man. Draco bucked up into Harry’s touch, grinding into his palm as he continued his siege on Draco’s nipples. 

He loved how Draco felt under him, solid, responsive, incredibly hot. He couldn't help but be turned on by how much Draco seemed to want this, by the way he writhed and moaned, wholly indulgent, beneath his fingertips. It turned Harry on to beso plainly _wanted_ like this.

Harry finally lifted his head, lips thick and swollen. He conjured another drink, a margarita—all lime and crushed ice, crystals of sugar lining the rim of its glass. He took a sip, letting the ice melt in his mouth before surging forward to kiss Draco. 

The kiss was slow, as if time had been drenched in honey—nothing like their kisses at home which were always quick and fervent, hard and straightforward. Draco’s lips were soft, his kiss a slow seduction. The restlessness in Harry seemed to quiet, his entire existence narrowing down to where Draco’s mouth moved against his. The heat of Draco's lips against his cold ones was incredible. Residual sugar from the margarita and melted ice. Sweet, tangy lime dancing between their hot tongues. Though they had kissed thousands of times prior, this felt refreshing. Brand-new.

Draco’s hands were at his shoulders, sliding up towards the collar of his shirt, fingers clenched in the soft material, nearly soaked-through with Harry’s sweat. He began to unbutton Harry’s shirt, fingers deftly working to pull fabric away from the miniscule buttons that ran down the shirt’s middle. Harry’s own hands ran over the bare expanse of Draco’s back, dipping down towards the waistband of his shorts to reach his arse. 

Harry broke away, gasping for breath and pushing off his shirt, which now hung open at his shoulders. He moved away so that he was no longer straddling Draco and pushed him backwards until he was pressed against the back-rest. Harry slid his hands over the other man's thighs, vanishing his shorts and leaving his cock, _thick-hard-red-hot_ , exposed. 

His brain must’ve short-circuited for a moment, for when he looked up, Draco had an insufferably smug look on his face. Harry decided, then, to save his salivating for later, and pressed his lips against Draco's once more.

He was back in Draco’s lap. This kiss was a bit more frantic, their teeth nearly clashing against each other in their collision. Harry chased Draco’s tongue with his own, tasted the remnants of his margarita in Draco’s mouth. They clung to each other; his hands caught on Draco’s sharp jawline, and Draco’s at the damp hair at the base of Harry’s neck. His hips rolled forward, his erection begging for contact, for friction. Draco’s hands slid down to his arse, palming him through his shorts and grinding him into Draco with a slow, rhythmic intensity. 

It was too hot again. Harry could feel the sun pressing down onto his back, a weight on his shoulders. He broke away, suddenly, to down a bit more of his margarita, and returned to Draco. It was addictive, having the other man's tongue in his mouth, the distinct shift from freezing-cold back to scorching-hot. The way Draco warmed him up from the inside out with his lips alone. 

Harry pulled away from him, panting, moving up and away, to kneel at the end of the sun lounger. He had to take a moment to catch his breath, to look away from the naked man laid out before him. Sun-bleached wood under his knees, salt in the air. And then, Draco. 

Draco. Harry wrapped his hands around the man’s thighs and pulled him to the edge of the lounge. He couldn't help but let his fingers skim upwards, over the toned curve of his calves and the blond hair that dusted his upper thighs. He let his palms rest at the apex of Draco’s hips and looked up, meeting his eyes.

It turned Harry on—how debauched Draco managed to look, though Harry had barely touched him. Had barely even had the chance to truly ruin him. Still, Draco looked wrecked, all messy blond hair and heaving breaths. Wide eyes and flushed skin. Legs spread. Cock hard.

Harry bent forwards, starting at the base of Draco’s cock and allowing his lips to ghost upwards towards the tip. Draco’s moans were thin and quivering, as if he was struggling to breathe. His hands scrambled for something to hold onto before finding themselves back in Harry's hair, fingers wound tightly around the strands, tugging Harry closer. 

Harry did not relent. He hovered over the tip of Draco’s cock, slit now weeping with precome. He knew Draco could nearly feel him, could feel the barest hint of heat radiating off his body, his mouth. He knew how unbearable this felt; Draco had done it to him hundreds of times.

“Harry, _please_.”

Harry chuckled in reply, “Patience is a virtue, Draco.”

“Fuck your virtues,” said Draco, pulling at Harry’s hair again.

Harry grabbed an ice cube, one of the few still left from Draco’s abandoned gin and tonic. He held it in his grasp and wrapped his hand around Draco’s cock, wanking him with the cube. Draco jerked away at the sensation, but Harry held him down, one hand still at his hip. He continued to move his hand up and down until the cube melted, leaving Draco’s cock straining in Harry's palm, cool and slick.

He swallowed Draco down. 

“Fuck,” groaned Draco, hips snapping up, his cock hitting the back of Harry’s throat. 

He began to move, his mouth a firm seal around Draco’s length. Harry swallowed, his throat working around the thick cock between his lips. He could only imagine how it felt for Draco, having Harry blow him like this. The heat of his mouth, a furnace around the cold hardness of Draco’s cock, the constant back and forth—hot, cold, hot, cold. He fed off of Draco’s moans, which slipped from his mouth loud and unabashed. 

Harry couldn't help sliding a hand down to his own cock, pressing at his swollen erection with an insistent hand in time with his assault on Draco’s. Draco was babbling, nonsensical words caught between praise and pleading for more, more, more. 

Draco’s legs slipped around his neck, heels pressing into Harry's back and dragging him impossibly close. The shift in position, which had Draco’s back pressed flat against the lounge, gave Harry unobstructed access to the other man's arsehole. 

Harry took full advantage, using a flashy bit of wandless magic to conjure lube to drip from his fingers. It was a display of power that would've had Draco melting in Harry’s hands, had he been more cognizant of the world around him. He pushed insistently at Draco’s furrowed hole, two fingers breaching the ring of tight muscle and thrusting in and out. Draco cried out, gasping, hands scrabbling to grip at Harry’s hair, his face, his glasses. 

Harry’s mouth was still a tight, wet vice-like grip over Draco’s cock. He held still, and Draco, a slave to his desire, began to thrust into Harry’s mouth in time with Harry’s fingers. Harry was still palming at his cock, imagining what it would be like to fuck the tight channel that wrapped around his fingers with his cock. 

Harry pulled away, suddenly, obscene strings of saliva tethering his mouth to Draco’s cock. He ignored Draco, who had been reduced to a mess of plaintive whines and unfruitful hip thrusts, and grabbed another cube of ice.

“Harry,” called out Draco around a groan, “I’m so close, god, please.”

“Please, what?”

“Anything. Do anything. Use me. _Please—_ ”

Draco broke off with a fevered gasp, a litany of expletives spilling from his open mouth. Harry had pressed an ice cube to Draco’s hole, rim now red and swollen, contracting around Harry’s fingers with each thrust. Harry could feel how hot the skin was, scorching against the cold ice. Harry would have rimmed him, had Draco not been so close, had Harry not been so close himself. Maybe later, he thought. They had all week. They had crisp, clean, hotel sheets waiting to be messed up with saliva and lube and cum. They had an ocean, wide and expansive and warded with privacy charms, waiting for them to fuck amidst the waves. They had each other.

Harry engulfed Draco’s cock in his mouth once more, fingers still pistoning into Draco, other hand still teasing his rim with the ice. He crooked his fingers upwards, searching for the other man's prostate. He found it a few seconds later if Draco’s shout of pleasure were any indication. He continued to push his fingers in and out, now dripping with water from the rapidly melting ice cube. His mouth mirrored his thrusts, Draco’s cock slipping in and out of his lips with obscene, squelching noises.

Draco’s thighs clenched around Harry’s neck, words caught between gasps, “I’m so _—ah_ , yes right there—fucking close—god, I can't—”

Draco fell apart, a flood of hot cum shooting down Harry's throat before he could finish his sentence. His hips jerked up into Harry’s mouth as he swallowed. His hole clenched around Harry’s fingers, which were now dripping with cool water from the melted ice. Soft, hoarse moans slipping from his mouth in the aftermath of his orgasm.

Harry stood, slipping out of his shorts. His hard cock sprang out, bobbing against his stomach, dark, flushed with blood, and begging to be touched. Draco caught sight of it, and having not yet descended into a total post-orgasmic haze, beckoned Harry closer. He took it into his grasp, pale fingers wrapping against his length.

“You were so, so good, Harry. I love the way you suck cock. The way you took care of me, like you were made for it.” His words were punctuated by long strokes, each one bringing Harry closer to the edge. “You looked gorgeous. Your hot, perfect mouth stretched around my cock. Broad shoulders between my thighs. Fingers in my arse.”

Harry moaned; a long, needy thing. Draco’s praise had him feeling warm all over, his heart rate speeding up until it was all he could hear in his ears. Until all he could feel was wave after wave of pleasure, heart pounding in his chest, cock pulsing in Draco’s grasp. 

Creamy streams of white shot out of his cock, falling over Draco’s chest, his chin, his cheeks. Draco's tongue shot out, lapping up the bitter streaks of cum in a way that made Harry feel like he would implode. His hand was still firm around Harry’s cock, wanking him through the last bit of his orgasm. Draco’s fingers slipped down, fondling Harry’s bollocks, sliding through the wiry pubic hair at the base of his cock. 

Harry was spent. The sun had drifted away, leaving a light breeze in its wake, a balm over his overheated skin. He couldn't help but collapse onto the sun lounger next to Draco, feeling utterly boneless in the wake of his orgasm. The two of them barely fit on a single chair, but they managed, curling around each other, too tired to do anything more. 

Draco pressed a chaste kiss to Harry’s temple, “Are you feeling okay, now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I could see how uncomfortable you were, Harry. I’m not blind. It was like you had all this pent up energy and no idea how to spend it.”

“Well, I found a way to spend it, didn't I? A good way, too.” 

And that was the truth, thought Harry. A sense of calm had settled upon him, a deep-seated contentment that felt natural here, away from their lives and jobs and histories. It was magical, wasn't it? What an orgasm could do for the soul. 

“Ice?” murmured Draco sometime later, hands now carding through Harry’s hair, one leg strewn haphazardly over his hip.

The comment startled a laugh from Harry, who had to admit it had been more creative than they were used to. “Are you complaining? It _was_ bloody hot.”

“No, no, it was good. _Really_ good.” 

Harry agreed, feeling more at ease than he ever had before. All he wanted to do now was relax. They were on holiday, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated! Feel free to come find me on [Tumblr](https://prolix-.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> * * *
> 
> 💋 This work is part of the Taste of Smut Fest, a Harry Potter-centered fest dedicated to the five senses: taste, touch, smell, hearing, and sight. 
> 
> If you’ve enjoyed this work, please do shower our content creators with kudos and comments! 💌
> 
> [Please check out the fest's tumblr for more posts and updates](https://tasteofsmut.tumblr.com/)


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